Read the Prologue and Chapter 1 of Forbidden Captive…

A Viking/Shapeshifter Slow-Burn Enemies to Lovers Romantasy

Prologue 

Riker

Showing fear was a weakness.

A death sentence.

Vikings could not be afraid.

But when I heard my sister’s desperate shouts … my entire world stilled with fear.

I hurled from my cot, scrambling for the door as fast as I could. Identical footsteps sounded from behind me as I ran down the hall.

Annora’s bedroom was the room beside mine, but her shouts were coming from farther away.

At the other end of our house—our parents’ bedroom door was wide open. As I ran toward it, I saw it was draped in darkness, but the very marrow in my bones knew Annora’s voice was coming from inside.

Rather than letting fear grip me, I reached for anger until I was surging with it—until I felt like I could tear the entire house apart with my bare hands.

At their bedroom, I saw red.

There was so much blood—Annora’s blood.

My heart withered in my chest. A breath heaved through me.

She looked so small, I was afraid to touch her.

And I could do—nothing.

There was too much blood.

Helpless and useless. The realization was so consuming and weighed me down so fully, it was nearly suffocating. Tears racked through me, each drop landing at the knees of her nightgown.

By the time her eyes found me, she couldn’t speak. I watched how the light left her crystal-blue eyes. Still, when her eyes became lifeless to the world around us, it seemed so sudden.

I didn’t care if I was showing weakness.

I let fear swallow me whole. Agony suffocating my heart, I allowed my tears to fall.

Chapter One

Zyra

No shapeshifter had ever taken me seriously. And with mashed strawberries trailing down my cheeks and stuck to my hands, I didn’t blame them. I groaned, more than a little tempted to turn around and head back to the warmth of my bed. Then with a slight snarl, I forced my feet to move.

I wiped the fruit from my face, the scratchy rag flushing my cheeks. The shelves facing my kitchen held every nut, berry, herb, syrup, preserve, pickled vegetable, and even oil any one person could ever need. Each one brightened the small space. Light peeked through the windows on either side of the front door, casting rays across the hall and into the kitchen. I stepped around the wooden countertop more often used as a kitchen table than the actual table beside the shelves. After grabbing a jar stuffed full of jam, I stood at the counter, ready to pop open the lid, and the door burst open. I paused but didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

Corinna slammed the door, shutting out the murmurs of the borough and blocking the light.

“Too loud. Too early,” I mumbled when I found words, speaking for the first time that morning.

“Too cold, too,” she offered, removing the hood shadowing her face. Sharp, red tattoos snaked up her right hand and traveled across her arm to her shoulder. Sharp, red tattoos snaked up her right hand, traveling across her arm to her shoulder, then winded up the side of her face before disappearing into her dark hair. “Thank the Great Spirit you keep this place warm.”

I fought not to roll my eyes. The borough stayed plenty warm, thanks to the tree and how the cavern narrowed the closer one got to the entrance. We had drafts, but it wasn’t like snow blew inside.

Before I could finish opening the jar, Corinna had sauntered across the room and snatched it from my hand. Hopping onto the counter, she crossed her legs, tossing the jar from hand to hand.

I wouldn’t dare mention the pureeing incident to her.

Catching my disapproving glare, a slow smile spread across her face. “You invited me to breakfast.”

“I didn’t realize you would be stealing my jam.”

“I’m stealing your bread, too. Hand it over.”

I sighed. Despite having grown up together, the friendship between Corinna and me had its limitations. I was nothing more than a glorified apprentice, while she had grown into a warrior for Haiden’s bidding. Navigating whether she was speaking to me as a friend or as my superior left me on edge at all times. Even when we weren’t under Haiden’s thumb.

“I could just tell you to get over it and go hunt for your food.”

That. That right there was why I walked on eggshells.

I could only imagine how she would react if I said something similar to her.

I scoffed, unwrapping the loaf of bread I had traded for the day prior and cut a slice for each of us. The jam was a mixture of berries, which would pair perfectly with the sourdough. Most of my nights were spent right where I was standing. Typically, I was alone, though.

“What are you doing today?” I asked, for a change in topic, handing her slice over to let her spread her own jam.

“No idea,” she said, spinning the lid of the jar off and flicking it to the floor. “I haven’t seen Haiden yet.”

I nodded, taking a bite of plain bread. I nearly spat it back out, but Corinna handed over the jam before I had to take drastic measures.

Haiden, the Chief of Waylria, played favorites. While I mostly pickled vegetables and made fruit preserves for trade despite working under Haiden, Corinna and Nabil were Haiden’s esteemed shadows and warriors. Because they followed his every command. He rarely made me report to him anymore, but Corinna and Nabil were under strict orders to meet with him every morning.

“I think I’m just going to head out, then.” Averting my eyes, I popped the last bite of jam-covered bread into my mouth before heading to the shelves again.

Corinna took a massive bite as she scanned the cramped space, taking in the cooking pot over top kindling, a water basin, the wooden countertop she sat perched on, and the table from where I had grabbed one of my bags to stuff the day’s necessities inside.

Corinna released a long sigh. “Do you get bored of pickling and jamming?”

Do you get bored of following Haiden’s every whim? I kept grabbing things off the shelf but glanced at the door periodically.

Inside, it was impossible to tell whether it was early or late morning. Either way, I was ready to make my way down to the trading stalls. Afterward, I would be ready to come home and isolate myself with more pickling. The realm of Nedfin—since they were a realm that stood for healing, farming, and peace—was the source for all crops and orchards. Our realm, Waylria, often traded for their fruits and vegetables by offering them back as pickled or preservatives. Food kept longer, and farming could continue without guilt of waste.

“No. Why would I? It’s not like there’s much more to do.”

Aside from portioning food to help it last longer and helping Waylria and those in other realms, the trading stall provided a sense of community. It was a place where everyone stood on even ground. While there were favorite items for trade, there was no favoritism of those doing the trading.

Everyone had a stall, and everyone supported each other’s stalls. If one person didn’t have something, they would direct to another’s dealing.

It was one of the few places I didn’t have to walk on eggshells.

Corinna let out another long sigh, then I watched her from the corner of my eye push off the counter and start for the door.

She pulled up her hood when I turned to her. “I have to leave, but thank you for breakfast … You could try standing up for yourself one of these days, you know, when you get bored.”

I stuffed the last jar into my bag before meeting her at the door. She kept a careful eye on me the entire way, as if waiting for something. This time, it was my turn to sigh. “I don’t think it’s in my best interest to start making demands.”

I was unsure what would happen if I approached Haiden about expanding my responsibilities again. I had already asked to be more involved once, and that had gone worse than anticipated. What more could I do anyway? My own parents hardly spent time with me. Why would Haiden treat me as anything more when even they didn’t?

I shook my head, struggling to swallow around the lump in my throat.

Corinna merely nodded, then opened the door. When I stepped out behind her, I swallowed again. She stepped to the edge of the top step leading up to my front door, then didn’t even look back before she flung herself forward, shifting into a raven. Furiously flapping her wings, Corinna glided through the borough until she reached the waterfall, where she disappeared into Haiden’s quarters.

I stood envious of her effortless shift into flight.

Running, growling, and hunting was all my shift seemed good for. A mere wolf. No wonder Haiden thought me beneath Corinna and Nabil.

I shoved those thoughts to the shadows of my mind and, rather than shifting to race to the market on all fours, walked down the endless stone steps on human legs. Murmurs met my ears, growing louder the farther into the borough I went.

Stairs upon stairs had to be descended before reaching the split paths. All the winding footpaths joined at the center—where the Great Spirit upheld the ceiling with sturdy branches stretched across all corners of the vast cave, alighting the dome with its orbs of fruit and bright-green leaves.

Myths told of how we were birthed from the tree, having burst from its roots and climbed from the ground. And tradition upheld ritual blessings where we discovered what animal form we could shift into. The tree was Waylria’s source of light and life.

Memories of having the glowing fruit spread across my forehead did anything but bring a smile to my face.

But I refused to think about that when I was stepping into the market.

Each stall resembled that of a cramped home. Each one barely fit more than two people. Once squeezed through the door, someone would be met with a small wooden block for a counter and walls packed with items for trade. With a few already setting up for the day, I offered a tentative smile as I passed. Lizeth, whose stall was beside my own, was the only one who noticed as she set a handcrafted bowl on a table just outside.

 My walls were lined with shelves, and some still had a few leftovers from the previous day. I didn’t bother setting my bag down; I kept it braced on my shoulder while refilling the empty space on the shelves. While others offered things such as bowls carved with intricate designs, or weapons or even clothing and draperies, I offered preserves and pickled foods. Others traded fresh fruit, vegetables, and spices from Nedfin, too, but I was the only one who had mastered preservatives. My ability to balance the sweetness and bitterness within preserved foods was what Haiden used to claim I was more of a necessity when it came to trade. Not only with our people but with Nedfin, to continue the back and forth of goods between our communities.

That was where I was an asset.

The glass of the jar in my hand splintered beneath my palm.

My animal skin was not that of a raven like Corinna and Nabil, but I was his messenger whenever a produce runner came to Waylria. That was when I was allowed in Haiden’s chambers. That was my time of importance. And yet, though I dealt with trade between realms for Haiden, another world felt like an impossible reality. Nedfin’s runners came to us since it was too dangerous for shapeshifters to leave Waylria.

Our lands were where we were safest from Vikings.

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: This has gone through one round of professionally editing by my editor yet. At this time, Forbidden Captive is in Dee’s Notes hands to make this book flow and shine bright like a diamond!